Rescued by the Buccaneer (2 page)

“Come in,” she heard herself say, though her voice sounded far away.

“‘Ello, milady.” A young man came through the door.

“Where am I?” she asked.

“Aboard the
Neptune’s Damnation
, milady.” The young man bowed.

“And you are?”

“The name’s Bradford. I’m the ship’s bosun.”

His mussed sandy blond hair and his clothes, which appeared to be several sizes too big, gave one the impression of a child pretending to be a grownup. While he didn’t look a day over nineteen, she realized he must possess skill—otherwise he would not have been tasked with the duties of a bosun.

“My name is Frederica. How did I get here?” she asked.

“We attacked your ship.” He stared at the floor. “Found you in irons, clubbed over the head. I asked the captain to spare you, so now you’re our prisoner, or rather his. He sent me to see if you’d like something to eat.”

“You saved me? What about the rest of the passengers? The
Adelaide?
” she asked, becoming agitated.

He shrugged. “You’s attacked by pirates, milady.”

Her heart fluttered with panic. “So they’re dead? Everyone but me?” Her thoughts went immediately to Cassandra, and an emptiness spread in the pit of her stomach.

An unspoken apology crossed his face and he nodded.

Placing her hand over her heart, Frederica attempted to remain calm, to steady her breathing. “And I’m a prisoner. What will become of me?” She was mostly thinking out loud, but this boy seemed to be at least somewhat sympathetic to her plight.

“Whatever the cap’n sees fit. I figured you would be of some use to him.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, wondering if his comment was meant to be salacious. To her surprise, Bradford looked innocent. Perhaps he meant well.

She cast a shrewd eye upon him. “Why would you save
me
?”

His face colored and he scuffed the floor with his shoe. “I know what it’s like to be a prisoner, milady, and I couldn’t stand the thought of ‘em killin’ ye.” Then, almost as an afterthought, he asked, “Do ye have any skills?”

“I can sew,” she said slowly. “And my father was a doctor. I know something about caring for sick people.”

He grinned. “See? I knew you’d be worth something to the cap’n.”

“Where is he, this captain?”

“‘E’s on deck with the crew. You’ll see him tonight. These are his quarters.”

Frederica lay in the only bed, and as her eyes scanned the rest of the room, she noticed a colorful rug on the floor and walls that were bare, with the exception of a couple of windows. A few stacks of papers and books sat in one corner, a trunk with a lantern in another.

“In the meantime, I’ll bring you some gruel. ‘Ow does that sound?” Bradford asked, seeming to be trying to cheer her up.

“That would be lovely,” she said without much enthusiasm.

While she was waiting for him to return, Frederica thought of her parents. They had both tried to dissuade her from her adventurous notions of visiting the New World. Her mother had tried unsuccessfully to transform Frederica into the sort of proper young lady who enjoyed staying home and serving tea. Her father, a physician, worried about the many health hazards she would face during an ocean voyage. In addition, they despised the idea of losing their only daughter to the other side of the ocean. But when Frederica turned eighteen, first her mother and then her father caught fever and died.

Her friend Cassandra had been orphaned as a baby and had been raised by Frederica’s parents, making her more like a sister than a friend. Heartbroken but free from her parents’ disapproval, Frederica wrote to a distant cousin of her mother’s who resided in the Virginia colony. When her cousin responded that Frederica and Cassandra might be able to find positions as governesses in the colonies, Frederica arranged passage for the two of them on a voyage bound for the southern colonies.

She did not have to wonder what her parents would think of her current predicament, and she cringed to think they had been right. Sailing to a new country had been foolish, and now she was suffering the consequences. Of course, Cassandra had already paid the ultimate price for Frederica’s folly.

Bradford returned with the gruel, and Frederica made herself sit up on the bed to eat it.

“When you finish eating, I can see if Morgan can remove those irons.” He indicated the heavy bracelets at her wrists.

“Oh, that would be heavenly. They’re awfully heavy and clumsy.” She sipped the bland broth, forcing herself to swallow, despite the lump in her throat. “How did they become detached?” she asked, jangling the loose chains from her arms.

“I broke it. Nothing worse than being stuck with your hands behind your back.”

“Thank you.” She drank from a cup of water he’d given her. “Do you mind if I ask you something?”

He shrugged. “No.”

“How did a young man like yourself become a pirate?”

“I was orphaned as a small boy. With no one to take care of me, I stowed away on a pirate ship. Not sure I knew what I was doin’.” He smiled bashfully and looked at the ground. “When I was found, the captain beat me good, but he let me stay on, and I’ve been sailing the seas most of me life.”

“Forgive me if this offends, because I do not desire to do so, but you seem too kind to sail with murderous bandits such as these men,” she said in a low voice.

He winked at her. “Could be that I’m soft when I see a pretty face.”

“Oh,” was all she could muster. His brazen admiration for her was unexpected, and she bowed her head and finished the rest of her soup in silence.

When he saw she was done, he offered her a hand and led her out of the captain’s chambers, through a corridor, and down to a dark area where they found Morgan.

“What have we here?” Morgan asked.

“We need you to cut these shackles from her wrists,” Bradford said.

Morgan glared at Frederica, though he spoke to the bosun. “Captain alright w’dat?”

Bradford nodded. “Not like she’s going anywhere.”

Morgan snickered at the joke. “Alright. Set your arm here on me forge, wench.”

Frederica stiffened, not used to being addressed in this manner, but she knelt beside the large metal slab and placed her right arm upon it.

Morgan dragged out some tools and rotated her arm so as the hinge of the bracelet faced upwards. He set the coal chisel to the hinge and struck it with his hammer.

Frederica’s bloodcurdling scream rang throughout the ship.
Good lord, the man might smash her arm to bits!
Panic overtook her, and she begged him to stop.

“Frederica, calm yerself.” Bradford placed a comforting arm on her shoulder.

Heavy footsteps were followed by the appearance of an imposing figure hulked in the door frame, taking up most of the space. She recognized him as the pirate in charge during the raid on the
Adelaide
.

“What is the meaning of this?” the captain barked.

“Trying to remove her shackles and she’s scared,” Bradford said sheepishly.

“Of what?” the captain boomed.

“I guess that he’ll harm her during the proceeding,” Bradford said.

“Nonsense!” The captain focused his attention on Frederica. “I’m Captain Humphrey, lass, and you’re my prisoner. You will do as I say, hear?”

Frederica nodded.

“Commence,” Humphrey said to Morgan, who took another swing with his hammer.

As much as she tried not to, Frederica squealed again. She was petrified that the man was going to smash her wrist. There was no guarantee his aim was sound, and he used so much force that her whole arm quaked with each blow.

“That’s enough. I’ll not have ye making all that racket, girl,” the captain said. “Don’t make me sorry I saved your ass. I can always feed ye to the fishies.” He chuckled at this idea. “Stuff a rag in her mouth, Bradford.”

Bradford pulled a rag from his pocket and approached Frederica.

She widened her eyes, pleading with him not to do it.

“Open,” Bradford said.

If she refused, she feared they’d break her arm for spite. Seeing no alternative, she complied. She bit down on the rag and her face pulled back in a grimace when the unfamiliar, bitter taste from the cloth registered in her brain. Morgan struck the chisel against the metal again, her cries muffled by the makeshift gag.

Humphrey laughed. “That’s more like it.” He walked over and pinched her cheek hard. “I’ll be seein’ ye later, lassy.”

After several more strikes the iron bracelet sprang open and Morgan grabbed her other arm and went to work on it. Frederica closed her eyes and prayed for the shackle to be removed safely.

“We’re done,” Morgan said and removed the second cuff from her wrist, and Bradford removed the rag from her mouth. Exhaling loudly, Frederica wiped the nervous sweat from her brow and thanked the blacksmith, who grunted an acknowledgment and went back to work.

“Let’s get you back to the captain’s quarters,” Bradford said.

The mention of the captain set her teeth on edge. The man was a brute, and she didn’t relish the idea of being in close proximity to him.

Bradford escorted her back to the small room, then excused himself, saying he had to get back to work. “See you around,” he said, closing the door.

She hoped so. He was the only advocate she had aboard this ship of murderous pirates.

Alone, she did her best to quell the feelings of desolation that attempted to overtake her. This was not the time to fall apart. She must be brave and find a way to escape her current circumstances, but her legs trembled every time the massacre on the
Adelaide
replayed in her mind. For some reason, she couldn’t stop the scene from playing in her head over and over, like a macabre theater scene. And to her horror, she was now in the hands of the devil who ordered the slaughter of a ship full of innocent people, including her best friend, the last person on earth who loved her.

The pain in her head still throbbed so she rested it on her arm and fell into a fitful sleep.

She was awakened hours later when the cabin door sprang open with a bang. Captain Humphrey stalked towards her, his gate unsteady. “Get up,” he growled, yanking a coverlet off Frederica’s sleepy form.

She bolted to a sitting position.

“What’s a matter, girl? Cat got your tongue?” he laughed heartily, pleased with his own joke.

“I beg your pardon, sir.”

“You’d best make yourself useful around ‘ere.” He stumbled over to the bed, smelling of rum. “You’ll be sleepin’ on the floor.” He directed her to the rug.

“Yes, sir.” Frederica scrambled out of the bed just before he fell heavily onto it.

Before she could say another word, he was snoring loudly. Relieved at the brief nature of their interchange, she curled up on the floor, cradled her aching head in her hand, and went back to sleep.

Chapter Three

Over the next several days, Frederica grew accustomed to her new life as a prisoner on the
Neptune’s Damnation
. In the mornings, the captain gave her tasks to complete. Bradford must have told him she could sew because he gave her armloads of mending to do, everything from men’s undergarments to the ship’s flags.

She wouldn’t see Humphrey until the evenings, when he would often pass out before they had much interaction. With few exceptions, Humphrey kept her locked in his room. Once, when she asked if she might be allowed to get some fresh air, he refused, claiming that the sight of a comely woman such as herself would drive the crew to distraction. He said locking her away was for her own safety, protecting her from savages who would only do her harm.

The solitude of the days drove Frederica mad. She longed for interaction with other people, and she wished Bradford would come to her door again, just so she might hear a friendly voice. She owed him a debt for saving her from the same violent end that met the other two hundred and sixty-one passengers of the
Adelaide
, and he was the closest thing she had to a friend on this blasted pirate ship.

Pangs of guilt feasted on her gut whenever she thought of the
Adelaide
. If Cassandra had not gone along with Frederica’s ill-conceived idea to seek a life in the colonies, the girl would still be alive today. Many nights she lay sleepless, mulling over her part in her friend’s demise. When she did find sleep, nightmares of the
Adelaide
sinking awakened her, the victims’ voices haunting her, begging her for help from their watery graves.

One afternoon, Frederica was quietly humming to herself when Humphrey came barreling into the room, waving a tan garment. “What the bloody ‘ell is this?” he shouted and shoved the cloth in her face.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Frederica stammered.

“Look ‘ere at this hole. Thought I told you to sew this up.” He pointed to a new rip in the shirt he’d handed her.

She gulped. “That’s a new hole, sir. I did sew it up when you brought it to me before.” Humphrey was always grumpy and loud, but Frederica couldn’t remember seeing him angry like this before.

“Don’t try to pass off shoddy work to me, lass. You’re lucky to be standing there. The least ye could do is the simple tasks I ask of ye.”

She attempted to appear contrite. “Yes, sir. My apologies, sir.” Something in his tone told her this was not the best time to defend herself.

He sat down on the bed and motioned her towards him. “C’mere.”

Reluctantly, she tiptoed across the small space until she was just out of reach.

“Lift up your skirts.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “Excuse me, sir?”

“Are ye hard of hearing?”

“No,” she squeaked.

“Then lift up your bloody skirts!” he bellowed.

Fighting back tears, she gathered her skirt and petticoats in her arms and lifted them up.

“‘At’s more like it,” he said and reached for her.

She instinctively took a step backwards, but he was too fast for her, grabbing her by the waist and hoisting her over his lap. Within seconds she was slung over his knee.

“Eeeh! What are you doing? Let me go!” She tried to wiggle free, but she was restrained by his big burly arms.